


Finally Home

by phantisma



Series: Keeper Verse [37]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-03
Updated: 2008-02-06
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott never really believed Sam about Stanford.  Not until he met Melanie, and her eyes went black.  All black. And just like that, Scott Wu realizes he is in over his head.  The question is, can the Winchesters help him, or is he screwed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Scott Wu was not a guy who was easily frightened, or thrown or…whatever this panic in his chest was. If he had been, the thing with Dana would never have lasted. Yet, here he sat, on the floor of his dorm room closet, which really wasn’t much of a closet at all, trying not to breathe, pretending he wasn’t there at all.

_She_ was out there.

Melanie Sampson, his…buddy. That’s what the coach had called her, Scott’s buddy, to help him get acclimated to the school, make sure he knew how to find his classes, shit like that.

He was supposed to be in class, but he wasn’t coming out of the closet until he knew she was gone.

He rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. It was all wrong. This whole college nightmare was so far fucking wrong that he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to live out the semester. In fact, if any of the Winchester ever saw him like this, hiding in his own fucking closet, Scott was pretty sure he’d die of embarrassment right then and there.

He and Dana had been practical about the whole dating thing. They were both in college, one thousand, eight hundred, and fifty two miles, door to door, if Google maps was to be believed. They had decided that they would date other people, and see what happened come Christmas. And, they were both okay with that.

Well, Dana seemed to be more okay with it than Scott, but Scott had taken her at her word, and then there had been Melanie. Smoking hot, a runner that would give even Dana a run for the money, 4.0 GPA, and a family filled with PhDs, including a Noble nominated scientist and she was a junior to boot.

Melanie had told him that her job was to make him comfortable, to show him a good time. She took that job very seriously.

Very.

And Scott figured he needed the experience, so he’d know if Dana really was the one for him. The next morning, he’d been wracked with guilt, and called Dana to confess.

He got her voice mail.

The next morning was a little easier, and it might have had something to do with the fact that Melanie’s body did things Dana’s had never done, which made his body do things it had never done.

But that was a week before the hiding in the closet.

Before she had invited him to a “church thing” that was like no church he’d ever been to. Before he saw her room, neat and tidy, other than the altar hidden in her closet. Before he caught her talking to someone in the bathroom mirror, her eyes black as tar.

**Completely black.**

Now, everywhere he looked, he saw demons. Well, he could only assume, because truthfully? Even with everything he **had** seen with the Winchesters, he hadn’t ever really actually seen a demon.

Still, how could he have let _that_ into his room?

Better yet, how could he have slept with it?

Something like that had ripped Sam up, and left him for dead. He was in over his head and, unlike all the other freshman wandering naively around campus, he was very acutely aware of it.

She had stopped knocking, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He stayed in the closet and fished his cell phone out of his pocket. After only a slight hesitation, he dialed the Winchester’s home phone. It rang once…twice…three times and, just as he was about to hang it up, he heard, “Hello?”

Only it wasn’t Dean’s voice. It was Sam.

Scott almost hung up. His last image of Sam had been one of a frail, broken man who could barely walk and sometimes couldn’t remember his own name. A bunch of other images flashed through him; Sam naked and bleeding on the ground, barely breathing on the floor of their living room.

“Scott?”

Scott cleared his throat. His voice squeaked. “Sam? How did you know?”

“I can hear you breathing.”

“Oh…I…um…”

“Dana’s not here, Scott.”

“Oh, I know. I wasn’t calling for her. I wanted…um…Dean.”

“Dean?” Sam hushed Aristotle. “Is something wrong?”

_I’m hiding in my closet from my demon possessed…fuck buddy, why should anything be wrong?_

“I just…had a car question.” Scott lied. Sam would know it was a lie. Scott had left his brother’s car behind. “For ah…my roommate.”

“You’re positive nothing’s wrong?”

“Yeah…I…I’m glad you’re feeling better, Sam.”

“Can I have Dean call you back?”

“No…I’ll…try again later.”

 

 

Sam frowned at the phone and hung it up. “That was odd, Ari.”

He set her leash on the hall table. Something was very wrong. Scott had been anxious. Sam had felt his heart beat racing, sensed the tension, and picked up, loud and clear, an odd thought about demons, along with the image of a great looking young woman.

He picked up the phone to call Dana, instantly thought better of it. Obviously, the two of them had made the grown-up decision to date outside the relationship, and it wasn’t really Dana’s business. He chewed on his lip and opened himself up, reaching out across the space toward California. Stanford still felt the same…other than the vague, nearly swallowed dot of Scott.

He crossed to the desk and opened the laptop. He could be in Palo Alto by noon the next day. He stopped and thought about it. Dean wouldn’t want him to go alone. Dean didn’t fly. Sam chewed on his lip and looked up as Dean came in from running with Remmy. The puppy was in Dean’s arms, his tongue dragging, his eyes closed, panting.

“You wore him out.” Sam joked, somewhat amazed.

“It took a while. Then we went past Margaret’s and she was outside with the collie pups. He played until he couldn’t stand on his own four feet.”

Sam kissed him and waited for him to realize something was up.

“Something wrong?”

Sam nodded, felt Dean fish around for a reason and offered up the conversation with Scott and the feeling of _wrongness_ that had come with it. “I think he’s in trouble.”

Dean put Remmy on the couch and frowned at Sam. “Still…it’s Stanford, Sam.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“How long?”

“Few days. Maybe it’s time that place got cleaned up a little anyway.”

Dean crossed his arms. “Long drive.”

“Too long. Have to fly.”

Dean made a face and swallowed. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m not letting you go alone, and you’re right, it looks like Scott’s in trouble. Get the tickets, I’ll get Dana to watch the dogs.”

“Wait, you’re gonna fly? Just like that?” Sam asked, crossing his arms and staring down at Dean.

Dean’s face was scrunched up and Sam could feel the anxiety already rolling off him. “I’m going. Don’t make it a thing.”

Sam held up his hands and nodded. “Okay, you’re going, no things.” He wrapped his mind around Dean, filling up a bubble with just them and his amazement at the way Dean loved him.

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Sam to him, kissing him lightly. Sam didn’t let go though, chasing after Dean’s mouth hungrily. _Tickets? Phone calls?_

Sam pulled back slowly. “Fine…but after that I’m going to kiss you. A lot. Make you forget about being afraid.”

“Gonna kiss me all the way to California Sammy?”

Sam grinned. “If I have to.”

 

 

 

Dana pretended to be completely absorbed in her reading, but it really wasn’t fooling anybody, least of all not Taylor Martin. He smiled and she blushed. _Not too much,_ she reminded herself. She wanted to reel him in, not send him running.

She put her eyes in her book, then licked her lips. She _felt_ his reaction and hid her grin behind a polite little cough, her hand raised to cover her mouth. When she looked up, he was looking at his buddy, but his face was red.

High school football star. Running back, with the nice tight ass and the muscular legs and hands the size of frying pans. Not the brightest bulb in the pack, but he was the guy on every girl’s radar, and Dana had decided she was going to land him first. She gathered her things and glanced at her watch.

Her father had been cryptic when he’d called and told her to keep an eye on the dogs and the house. She figured the dogs could wait another hour or so before they’d be dancing at the back door and opened her book again as she started walking. She misjudged just a little and plowed into him with her entire left breast instead of just winging him with her elbow. Her book went flying and he whirled to catch her. She let him think he’d rescued her, smiling as she shifted her weight.

“Sorry, I should have my walking license revoked.” She swiped at a stray hair that had escaped her pony tail and took her book back from him when he handed it to her. “I’m Dana.”

“Track team, right? I’m Taylor, football.”

She felt that familiar flush, not as hot as the day she met Travis, lord knows he was no where near as hot as Travis, but right up from her toes, ending in a pleasant tingling in various parts of her body. “I was on my way for coffee, can I buy you one…you know, to apologize?”

He grinned and raised a hand in farewell to his friends. “I like that idea.

 

 

 

Eventually, Scott had to climb out of the closet. He had classes and homework, and training.

The whole conversation with Sam had spooked him, like Sam could just know what was going on, what Scott had been doing…and Scott knew more than enough about Sam’s sex life, he really didn’t need Sam knowing all about his too…because if Sam knew, Dana might find out…in ways far more disturbing to him than a phone conversation about the “Stanford hotties” could ever be.

Truth was, Scott had always believed that the whole Sam/Stanford thing was…well, melodramatic and over. As in…it had been eighteen years since Sam had been there…long time for keeping the same people around.

But then, that was before Scott learned about demons. Before Scott shot a fellow teammate who had grown fur and teeth and claws. Before Scott knew.

Even after, demons were…theoretical. And maybe Sam was just attaching an over the top emotional reaction to the place because, from the very little Scott had discerned,, Sam’s life had been hell. But no one would tell him how or who or even what had been so bad…it was all swept up in the great Dana Elizabeth Winchester’s all-purpose rule: “Don’t ask about Sam.”

Scott sped up to keep ahead of Melanie, even though he was supposed to be doing his cool down laps. He came around the turn, his eyes sweeping up out of old habit, looking for Dana, though he knew she wouldn’t be there. It had only been a few weeks, and his stomach still flopped every time he made the turn and she wasn’t there leaning on the fence.

And she wasn’t.

In the place where she always would wait for him, right by the marker nearest the clubhouse, leaning on the fence in the same posture, was Sam. His hair was long and slicked back, his skin tan. He looked like he’d gained a few pounds.

He looked like Sam again.

Scott’s steps stuttered, and Melanie breezed by him, looking strangely at him. Sam straightened up as Scott approached.

“Looking good.” Sam tossed him a towel.

“What…why…Sam?”

Sam chuckled, and Scott thought it seemed completely out of place. “You sounded like you needed a friend. You done here?”

Scott nodded and wiped his face. His coach was crossing, frowning at his clipboard. “Little slow on that last lap before cool down, Wu.”

“Sorry sir.” Scott responded.

“No visitors during practice.”

“Uh, coach Winters, this is my…um, this is Sam.”

“I’m just in town for the night coach, was hoping to catch up with Scott.”

“Not too late, you got trials tomorrow.”

Scott nodded as the coach walked away. He swallowed hard as Melanie approached. Sam seemed to understand. “So, you shower and meet me out front. I’m taking you to dinner.”

 

 

Aristotle gave her a dirty look when Dana finally showed up, circled Taylor quite seriously before sniffing disdainfully and heading for the back door. Remmy bounced around barking at her and Taylor, putting on quite a show, and then at Aristotle when Dana pointedly ignored him.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’m just going to let them out back for a bit.” She dropped her back pack on the table and headed for the rear door. Since Sam’s return he’d built up the back yard, fenced it in physically and psychically and replanted it, and now it was an amazing, peaceful sanctuary. She didn’t have to worry about the dogs, just let them out and make sure the water bowl on the back porch was full.

She came back to the living room to find Taylor looking at the family pictures lining the entertainment center and walls. “Good looking family.”

Dana beamed. “Thank you.”

“Who’s this?” He pointed at her prom picture, fortunately, taken well before the onset of zombies.

“Scott, my boyfriend senior year.”

“Was?” Taylor turned to her, full-on blue beams of lust in his eyes.

She nodded. “He’s at Stanford. We agreed to see other people.”

“Very mature.”

She shrugged, moving so that she was standing right in his space. “It means I can do this.” She reached for his face, turned him and made her move. He seemed a little startled, but relaxed when she opened her mouth, inviting him to do more with his lips than talk.

“You don’t waste time.” Taylor said as she pulled away and headed to the couch.

“Life is short. I think a person should go after what they want, when they want it.” She flopped down and then lifted a hand to her breast where it had collided with his elbow.

“You okay?”

She raised an eyebrow and looked up at him. “Well, I don’t think it will require surgery or anything.”

He crossed to her, staring down at her before deciding she was offering him an opening. “I could maybe, check it…if you want.”

Dana grinned and crooked her finger in a “come hither” gesture. She had two hours to kill before her study date with Charles Gildmore, who was going to help her through her biology class…or at the very least help her become more acquainted with biology.

 

 

 

“So, is it just the girl?” Sam asked as the waiter left their food.

“What?”

Sam leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “I’m assuming that’s the cause of the freak out? The girl, at the track? The one with the demon all curled up inside her?”

“I’m not freaking out.” Scott said defensively, though he didn’t meet Sam’s eyes. “I feel like they’re everywhere.”

Sam sat back and surveyed the restaurant. They weren’t far off campus. Sam had spent a few hours here in his college career. He picked out the likely problems. Couple of jocks at the counter. The computer geek in the corner with the unlikely friends hanging around him. It wasn’t all that different from his days at Stanford. “They are everywhere, but you knew that.”

“This is different.” Scott muttered, picking up his burger.

Sam raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been wrong. The anxiety pouring off of Scott filled the room. It set him on edge. “So, not just the girl?”

“I don’t know.” Scott sulked and shoved food into his mouth.

Slowly it dawned on Sam. “You slept with her.”

Scott didn’t even try to feign an objection. “It was Dana’s idea.”

Sam chuckled. “Dana told you to sleep with a demon possessed track star?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “To see other people. Her idea. I didn’t know. Then she…went all demon-eyes and shit, and now I can’t get away from her. She’s everywhere.”

Sam chuckled, but he really did feel bad for the kid. He was just settling in to enjoy his own burger when his eyes spotted a familiar face. Ambrose Devlin.

The years hadn’t been kind to him. He was gray and he walked with a limp as he went to the table where the geek was holding court with a bunch of Goths and wanna-be bad-asses. Sam watched, waited.

Ambrose brought with him a whole different sense of what was wrong. Devlin Industries was one of many businesses with ties to the underworld, populated by demon-worshippers and worse. Old friends of the family that had raised him. Ambrose turned, his eyes widening.

His smile was entirely false and plastic as he crossed the room. Sam felt Scott’s sudden lurch of dislike and floated a calm wave toward him. He needed to assess the situation, and he didn’t need Scott getting anymore worked up.

“Sam Winchester?”

“Ambrose Devlin.” Sam didn’t stand up, didn’t raise his hand to shake, just nodded. He spared a quick glance at Scott, to see if he’d noticed the name used, but Scott was sulking and staring into his burger. Sam felt Ambrose try to needle his way into the old controls. Ambrose had been one of those that made Stanford hell. Sam smiled. “Long time. Things change.”

Ambrose nodded tightly. “I guess so.” He glanced at Scott, frowning. “Mr. Wu? What are you doing with this guy?”

Sam felt the compulsion for Scott to respond. His head snapped up and his mouth opened, though nothing came out immediately. They had their hooks in pretty good. Scott’s eyes filled with fear in response. He opened his mouth, but Sam cut him off. “Actually, I’m here checking up on my boy.” Sam said, understanding all of it now. They were trying to recruit Scott. They wanted him. The sex had probably been a binding of some sort. The more sex they had, the more tightly Scott would get wound up in it.

“Your boy?”

Sam met Scott’s eyes, reached into his head. _Trust me, and follow my lead._ He felt Scott’s silent agreement and fingered a few controls, ready to force him if he had to. “Yeah, my boy.”

Ambrose forced a laugh. “There are no marks indicating you own him.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You just didn’t look deep enough, Ambrose. My skill set has grown.”

“He belongs to Devlin Industries. He accepted the scholarship, signed the agreement, spoke the words.”

“I didn’t—“ Sam pressed in on one of the controls and Scott stopped, cold.

“I won’t argue with you over it, Ambrose. We can get a mediator if you’d like.” Sam didn’t want to have to go that far. He wanted to get Scott the fuck out of Palo Alto and kick his shit all over Lawrence for not paying attention. Obviously the “church service” was an initiation, and somehow they’d gotten him to recite the words.

“Midnight.” Ambrose turned to walk away. “No tricks, you know the penalty.”

“Goes double for you.” Sam said. When he was gone, Sam sighed and let go of Scott’s mind. “Fuck. I need someplace to work.”

“Work?” Scott seemed stuck, staring after Ambrose.

“Yeah, I have to get you ready…and I have to find a mediator I trust.”

“Someone you can trick?”

Sam shook his head. “No. Someone who will be impartial. Someone who will recognize my claim.”

“My roommate has classes until 10. We can go to my room.”

Sam nodded. “Eat. I’m going to make some calls.”

 

 

Dana straightened her clothes, wiped her face. She was all worked up now. Maybe spending an hour making out on her parent’s couch wasn’t the best choice in the world prior to a study session.

She would have taken it all the way, but time ran away from them. Now, she had just about twenty minutes to feed the dogs, get them settled in for the night and race back to campus to meet Charles in the library. Taylor was looking decidedly frustrated.

“So, there’s a party tonight at Delta house. You going?” Dana asked, buttoning her shirt back up.

“Delta? Maybe.”

“I plan on being there.” She watched his eyes light up. “We could maybe…pick up where we left off?”

He grinned and nodded. “I’ll see if I can clear my schedule.”

She went to let Remmy and Ari in, ducked into the kitchen to feed them and told Aristotle to keep an eye on things. “I’ll be by in the morning, okay, Ari? Keep the runt from destroying anything.”

“You ready to go?” Taylor asked, hitching his thumb toward the door.

“Yeah, can you drop me at my dorm? I need to get my biology notebook.”

And she wanted the entire dorm to see her getting out of Taylor’s car.


	2. Finally Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Scott confront the demons who have laid a claim to Scott, and Dean revisits an old memory.

Scott had been a little freaked out before Sam showed up. The level of freak climbed when Sam showed up. Now? He was pretty sure he was approaching the stratosphere. Sam was pacing and Scott wasn’t sure what he should be doing. Sam being nervous sent Scott’s level of anxiety from minor underlying panic into full on nervous breakdown.

Sam didn’t get nervous. Sam didn’t freak out.

Scott stopped biting his nails when he realized he was chewing on his fingers. And it hurt.

“Okay, this is kind of my fault.” Sam said, stopping mid pace to look at Scott. “I meant to warn you, set you up before you left…but then…you know.”

Then Sam had been attacked. Nearly killed. “Set me up?”

Sam looked uncomfortable. He chewed on his lip, than sat on the bed. “Okay, I have a confession to make.”

“I’m not going to like this.” Scott said, sitting in his desk chair. His ass was no sooner in the seat and his knee was bouncing. He couldn’t look at Sam, kept looking at his watch.

“I don’t…when you were first dating Dana, I…marked you.”

“You what?” Scott shook his head. It didn’t make sense. He’d always been vaguely aware that Sam had some gifts, like Dana’s…only not as intense.

Sam rubbed his face. “I never told Dana. I never even told Dean. I’m not…proud exactly, but I’d do it again.”

“Stop with the soft-soaping and tell me what the fuck you mean.”

“I pulled you aside after track practice one day and…went into your head. I put some controls in place, in case we needed to…keep you quiet, put you down, then I made you forget.”

“Keep me quiet? Put me down?” It sounded ominously like Sam was trying to say that he could kill him with a thought. “You booby trapped my head?”

Sam smiled at that. “Sort of. I buried it pretty deep, just in case Dana ever went snooping…but it’s there. It’s a…switch, for a lack of better word, it gives me the power to control you. I’ve never used it.”

“My life is too fucking weird.” Scott muttered. “And I’ve been walking around with this thing inside me?”

“Well, it is actually going to work in our favor. It’s been there since before you starting thinking about Stanford seriously. Before you met with their recruiter, which is probably when _they_ marked you.”

“But why me?” He didn’t get it. He wasn’t psychic. He didn’t have a ton of money or influence.

“Genetics.” Sam said, making Scott look up. Sam kind of shrugged. “You have good genes…Olympic athletes, doctor, they’ve probably already picked out your mate.”

“Mate? As in…mates…like married?” Scott shook his head. “Dana is never going to let me live this down.”

“She doesn’t ever have to know.” Sam reassured. He stood. “Okay, come over here and lay down, I need to go in and open stuff up. You’re going to have to trust me.”

“Like I have a choice?” Trust wasn’t’ really high on his list of things he was feeling at the moment. “No offense, dude, but you can’t really expect me to just…let you do shit to my head.”

Of course, it occurred to him that Sam could do it anyway, whether he let him or not. That didn’t really help with the trust issues.

“Scott, I realize you’re freaked out, and you don’t understand what’s happening, but let me try to help you understand your options here. You can do as I say and let me help you and there’s a good chance Ambrose will be forced to release you. You can fight me, and I can put you down and force you, and trust me that won’t be pleasant for you. Or, you can take your chances with Ambrose and his plans for you, which will be far less pleasant than anything I might do to you.”

Scott paced, chewed on his lip and watched Sam. He started when Sam’s phone rang.

“Hey. No, I’m with him now.” Sam turned away. “They’ve got their claws in pretty deep, but I think I can win, if Scott will stop fighting me. We meet them at midnight.”

Scott wasn’t consciously trying to listen, but it was a small room. He sat on the edge of the bed and chewed on his fingers.

“You might want to rent us a car. He’s probably coming with us when this is over.”

Scott felt eyes and looked up. Sam was looking at him, weighing him. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll find you when it’s over.”

Sam hung up and sighed. “So?”

Scott still wasn’t sure he trusted Sam in his head. Still, he lay down, flopping his hands against the mattress.

“Relax, this isn’t going to hurt.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Sam smiled down at him. “Yes, it is. Close your eyes.”

Scott blew out and tried to relax as he closed his eyes. Sam’s hand was over his eyes, then everything sort of tilted under him and dizziness sucked him under.

 

 

Charles Gildmore wasn’t your traditional good looking guy. He was a science geek, with a major in physics and a minor in biology. He was a year older than Dana, and already a junior. She’d latched onto him when he had assisted her biology professor the first week of classes. He had this definitely geeky sort of charm, with wavy hair that wasn’t really blond and wasn’t brown, and he tucked it behind his ears when he was concentrating.

She couldn’t explain why she found that so endearing, but it made her want to kiss him every time.

“Dana?”

“Hmmm?” She blinked and realized her staring was making him uncomfortable. “I was just….your glasses. I really like them.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Are you flirting? Cause, if you’re flirting, you should know I’m not good at it.”

She grinned at him. “Would you like me to flirt?”

“I thought we were studying.”

“Project’s not due for two weeks.” Dana countered. “I learn fast.” She scanned him, very superficially. She just wanted to know if he was interested. She got a flush of very warm, slight arousal and nodded to herself.

It’s not that she was a slut…she just had decided to enjoy being away from the ever-watchful eye of Sam and her father, to explore what it was that did turn her on. And she had to move quick, before all the best paths to explore had been conquered by her roommate, or the other sluts on the floor.

He leaned in close, his mouth near hers. “I’ll tell you what, Ms. Winchester, learn something and I’ll let you flirt.”

“Oh, I think you’re better at this than you think.” Dana said in a whisper.

Yes, Charles Gildmore was definitely going to be fun.

 

 

Sam was nervous, maybe more than he even wanted to admit to himself. He centered for the fifth time in as many minutes. The grove was neutral ground. It had been home to trials and mediations as far back as there had been people on the land.

Scott was quiet beside him, mostly because Sam had a really firm grip on him. He’d activated all of his controls and was engaging all of them to keep Scott from bolting. They were alone, but there were still a few minutes until midnight.

His last visit to this grove had been after meeting Dean. He’d brought his claim on Dean for verification. It was before he’d learned who Dean was. He just knew that he wanted him, in every way possible, and didn’t ever want it to be contested.

Shortly after that, he’d gone home for Christmas to Boston, and never came back.

Sam drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes as he felt another person approaching. He stood slowly, drawing Scott up too.

“Samuel Winchester. We thought to never see you again.”

She glided out of the trees, seeming to step out of the night itself. Milk white eyes pinned him as she came closer, a vague smile on her lips. “We see the years have been kind.”

Sam inclined his head. “Gelinna. I am honored that you have come.”

“Such a request, from the infamous rebel…and the taste of goodness that came to us through the phone. We were intrigued.” Her dark hair wrapped around her like a garment, all the way to her knees.

Sam relaxed. If she could tell over the phone how much he had changed, and had come anyway, he might stand a chance.

“Is this the boy?”

“Yes, Scott Wu.”

She circled Scott, and he could feel her enveloping him with her own gifts, testing Sam, testing Scott. “Indeed.”

She backed off and seemed to settle into herself while they waited. There was a rustling of leaves and another like Gelinna glided out of the dark. Her eyes were also milk white, her hair a softer brown and likewise wrapped around her. Behind her Ambrose and the girl walked out.

The girl sidled up to Scott, her eyes black. She looked him over, then directed her attention at Sam, licking her lips.

“You haven’t tasted him.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he gave her a little psychic shove. “He’s not for me. Or you, for that matter.”

She raised an eyebrow and might have challenged him further, but Ambrose called her. “Come Melanie. Let us have the mediators do their job.”

Gelinna nodded to the other woman. “We have done our preliminary reading.”

The other one glided over the mossy ground. “We are Jotell. You are Samuel Winchester.”

Sam inclined his head. He double checked his controls. He was going to have a lot of memory to clean up for the kid when this was over…or a lot of questions to answer. “I am. This is Scott Wu. My claim has been usurped by Ambrose and the girl.”

“We shall see.” She turned to Scott, much as Gelinna had. She dug a little deeper, eliciting a pained response from Scott. It wasn’t a comfortable process by any means, even for an adept. “Release him.”

“I am controlling his anxiety. He is unaccustomed to—“

She looked him full in the face, her head tilting slightly. “We said, release him.”

Sam acquiesced, easing away from the controls and flicking the switch to return control to Scott. His eyes widened, his heartbeat sped up. He looked at Jotell, then at Sam. She turned to Scott again, reaching into his mind and sorting through the various marks.

Scott was just this side of a total shut down, Sam could sense it. Just when Sam thought Jotell was actually going to push him to it, she backed off. She nodded to Sam, then returned to Gelinna’s side.

They conferred silently for a long time. Scott inched closer to Sam.

Sam got the impression that Scott would have hidden behind him if he could. He put his arm around the boy, a bit of physical grounding. The two mediators lifted their heads and spoke together. “Scott Wu, we would speak with you.”

Panic spiked through Scott. “It’s okay. They won’t hurt you.” Sam whispered, encouraging him forward.

Scott rubbed at his head and moved slowly toward them. “Do you acknowledge either of these claims?’

“I…didn’t know about them…I wasn’t told.”

“And now you have been.” Jotell said.

Scott nodded. “I…Sam. I acknowledge Sam.”

_Good boy._ Sam sighed a little.

“Do you understand the implications of this claim?” Gelinna asked.

Scott shook his head, his eyes darting between them.

“If we confirm his claim, you will forever belong to him, and he will always retain the power to control you. This can not be undone.” Jotell told him.

“Though such power may be transferred if he does indeed hold you in preparation for mating.” Gelinna added.

Scott looked over his shoulder at Sam, and Sam could see the look of fear in his eyes, but in this, he was on his own.

“If I have to choose him or them with that power, I’ll take Sam.” Scott said, finally looking back at them.

“Our claim is binding.” Melanie said abruptly. “He was very willing. He participated.”

“He’s an eighteen year old boy and you offered him sex. Did you think he wouldn’t accept?” Sam snorted. “Really, Ambrose, your training is slipping. It isn’t like he was a virgin. He didn’t give you anything he didn’t already give the one I am holding him for.”

“We have seen all we need.” Jotell said, silencing everyone. “While both claims are strong, and bound with sexual magic, the claim that was made first clearly has precedence.”

“Scott Wu, you are given to Samuel Winchester, and shall abide under his protection and his control until such time as he sees fit to pass that control to another.” Ginella continued.

“Should he choose to relinquish said protection and control without passing it to the chosen Mate, all said rights will return to Ambrose Devlin.” Jotell finished.

Melanie started to protest, but Ambrose silenced her, bowing respectfully to the two women.

“Thank you.” Sam said, bowing himself before stepping forward to regain control of Scott. It would be better for all of them if Scott was silent and obedient while Sam cleaned up the last of the details. He didn’t trust Ambrose to leave it at this. Not that Sam dared to make a first strike, but it became clear very quickly he wasn’t going to have to.

Ginella and Jotell were scarcely gone when Ambrose attacked, first psychically, then physically. The knife sang through the air, and Sam pushed Scott out of the way before batting it away with a defensive wall, slamming it into a tree.

“Still can’t play by the rules, eh Ambrose?” Sam threw the wall toward his nemesis, surrounding him in a mesh of psychic energy before turning to Melanie who was gathering her own force of will around her. Sam pushed her hard, sending her back, just outside the neutral barrier, right into the devil’s trap he had drawn before the whole thing got rolling.

She screamed and threw herself at the barrier. Sam chuckled and watched her struggle for a second, then turned his attention to Ambrose, who had gone still and would soon run out of breathable air. He already had fallen to his knees.

Sam squatted next to him. “I’m not the scared little boy I was when I attended this university. Fortunately for you, I’m not the evil son-of-a-bitch I was when I left either.” He waved a hand and let Ambrose loose. He collapsed to the ground. “Get out of Stanford, Ambrose. Or, I will come back and finish you.”

Sam stood and left the grove, Scott following behind him. They left campus and once clear of it, Sam stopped them, quieting himself and centering and reaching out for Dean. It was comforting, the feeling of Dean as Sam brushed against his mind to get his attention, then opening their connection. It felt good, warm…safe. But Dean was distracted.

He frowned, then headed them toward the place where he felt Dean. Sam was uneasy, impatient and playing with his phone. He itched to call Dean, but he was trying to get a read for why Dean was there…standing outside the bar where they’d met. He nearly forgot Scott in his distraction, but Scott followed obediently without a word.

Dean felt him coming and looked up, guilt fleeting across his face. He was leaning against a black sedan, presumably their ride home. Sam looked at him, then up at the sign above the bar. “Why here?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess…full circle, and all that. We met here.”

Sam made a face. “The man you met here…he wasn’t me.”

Dean nodded, then shook his head. “The man I met here was hot and horny. Smart.”

“Evil. Manipulative.” Sam moved closer, slid his arm around Dean’s shoulder. “You on the other hand…you were the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Dean gave up staring at the bar and turned in Sam’s arms. “And all these years later, you still have me. Only now, I’m an old man with a daughter in college.”

“Still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” Sam whispered, sliding his lips over Dean’s. “Still want you so much it hurts.” Dean’s mouth opened under his and Sam licked into it, earning a moan.

“Scott.” Dean whispered, his eyes tracking over Dean’s shoulder to where the poor kid was standing, staring numbly at the sidewalk.

“Got him locked down so tight, I could fuck you against this car and he wouldn’t know.”

Dean snorted. “Right and get us both arrested? How would we explain that to Dana?” He pushed Sam away. “I got us a room. We can pack Scott up in the morning and head home.”

 

 

Sam was very happy to see that Dean hadn’t chosen the same run down motel as that first fateful night, in some misguided nostalgic fit. That might have been a little more than he could handle. It was strange, finally being back there. None of the normal panic had surfaced, not even when he’d spotted Ambrose.

Dean stopped the car in front of a very nice hotel and Sam let go of the controls on Scott just enough that he could get himself up and out of the car and into the room. It was late, just past one a.m. and Sam was tired, but he knew better than to leave Scott free to remember the way everyone had called him “Winchester”…though, so far it hadn’t seemed to register. Like Scott already thought of him as a Winchester, somehow.

“Can we maybe move the doorstop?” Dean asked, bumping his hip and gesturing at Scott with his chin. Scott stood dully in the way of getting the door closed.

Sam sighed and nodded. “Scott, come sit on the bed.”

“Any reason you’ve still got him so controlled?” Dean asked once he had the door secured with the standard lock, plus a solid rod of steel braced against a block of concrete, plus a line of salt and a nice sigil of protection to boot.

“Any reason you’ve got us locked in here like hell itself is coming after us?”

Dean shrugged, but Sam could tell he was a little tense. “I asked first.”

Sam nodded and looked at Scott. “I need to…blur some stuff.”

“Blur?” Dean was frowning at him and crossing to his side.

“They all knew me as Sam Winchester, Dean. Scott heard them.”

“You think he’ll remember?” Dean’s arms slid around his waist, his mouth chasing a line only Dean could see over Sam’s left shoulder.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Told you you’d always be a Winchester, Sammy.” Dean whispered. His breath moved over Sam’s neck, ruffling his hair. He pulled the ponytail aside and kissed over his neck. “Always. No matter what your ID says.”

“Dean.” Sam was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate with Dean’s tongue in his ear.

“Want to do more of that kissing thing.” Dean’s voice made Sam shiver. “And the licking thing too.”

“Scott.” Sam’s voice squeaked and he cleared his throat. “Scott, go into the bathroom and don’t come out until I come get you.” He pressed in on the controls in the kid’s head and he rose without hesitation, disappearing behind the bathroom door.

“Nice trick.” Dean laughed, turning Sam around and pulling him into a kiss that slipped tongues over and around, sliding in and out until Sam pulled back and threw Dean onto the bed.

“That’s ‘nough talking.” Sam’s hands pulled at Dean’s shirts, finally getting them loose from his jeans and yanking them up.

Dean’s skin was warm, tan and firm under Sam’s hands. He crawled over Dean’s legs to lick from Dean’s navel up to his chin. Dean’s fingers pulled the elastic that held Sam’s hair neatly at the nape of his neck, then pulled through his hair, gripping and pulling Sam’s mouth to his own.

Sam tried to get Dean’s pants open without breaking the kiss, but the zipper eluded him and he had to pull back, look down. Dean pulled Sam’s shirt up and over his head while Sam worked on his pants, finally freeing Dean’s cock which was half way to hard.

Sam wasted nothing in getting to it, opening his mouth and swallowing Dean before his pants were even down. He swirled his tongue around and over and slid down and up until Dean’s cock was swelling and filling his mouth.

He had a vague stab of guilt thinking of Scott in the bathroom, but banished it when Dean’s hips lifted off the bed and he made that sound, needy whimper and _more_ and . Sam sucked in deep, then let Dean’s cock slide from his mouth as he slid up to look at him

Dean cocked his head. “What?”

“Nothing…just…beautiful.” Sam slid up to Dean’s mouth, kissing him slow and easy. His hands worked his own zipper, managing a little better than he had with Dean’s and easing his jeans down and off. Slowly, he rolled them until Dean was on top, spreading his legs and inviting Dean between them.

Dean stopped, looked down at him. “Yeah?”

Sam nodded, lifting his hips. “Yeah.”

It didn’t surprise him that Dean already had lube stashed in the nightstand, and as he lubed up two fingers and slid them inside, Sam sighed, reaching for a pillow to make the angle better.

Maybe full circle wasn’t a bad thing. Completely reversing it, of course. Letting Dean inside him, surrendering. His hands fisted in the god-awful floral comforter as Dean worked a third finger inside him. There were flashes of memory, but unlike in the past, they flitted through, as if asking for acknowledgement and nothing more. No lingering fear, no paralyzing panic.

Then Dean was _right there_ , his cock pushing in, making Sam’s cock jerk fully hard.

Sam reached for him, hands on hips, minds entwined. There weren’t any words. Just full press of bodies and thoughts and emotions, penetrating one another, writhing. _Think too much_

Dean’s tongue was on his, his hands on Sam’s shoulders. Their bodies moved and Sam let go of thinking, released himself into the heat, touching Dean with hands and thought, licking on his nipples with a psychic mouth until Dean moaned. _Not fair,_

Sam grinned up at him. _Fair._

Dean responded by doubling his pace, pushing deep into Sam. His hands slithered down to Sam’s nipples, twisting one as he hit Sam’s prostate on the next thrust. Sam saw stars, clenching his ass tight around Dean and Dean cursed, his rhythm stuttering, his cock spewing. He didn’t even pull out as he reached for Sam, stroking him quick and dirty until he was coming too.

Sam panted as Dean pulled out and stood, shaking his jeans off his ankle where Sam had left them. He padded toward the bathroom while Sam pulled himself together.

“Shit.” Dean jumped back, pulling the door shut and turning a delicious shade of red. “Forgot he was there.”

Sam chuckled and sat up, tossing Dean his boxers. “I’ll take care of him.”

He fished around on the floor for his own boxers, and pulled them on before going to get Scott. He was standing staring into the mirror blankly. “Fuck.” Guilt washed through him. He’d left the poor kid all but comatose just so he could get laid. Sam reached around him for a washcloth and cleaned himself up.

“This is a new low,” he muttered before guiding Scott out and to the bed. “Lay down.”

“What are you going to do now?” Dean asked, pulling the comforter off the other bed and stretching out.

“See what kind of damage control I need to do…put him to sleep. Hopefully it will all just feel like a dream when he wakes up.”

“What, the standing in the bathroom while we fucked or me walking in on him?” Dean asked with a snort.

“Both.” Sam responded with a grin.

He turned his attention to Scott, reaching inside him for the memories of the last twenty-four hours. He went first to the meeting with Ambrose, where Scott would have first heard him called by his last name. There was no response, as if Scott actually considered Sam a Winchester, despite the fact that Sam’s legal name was Winechrest. He fished around a little, taking the edge off some of the fear and leaving behind reassurances that Scott had handled himself well.

He couldn’t find any single moment where Scott had pondered associating the Winchester name to Sam, but as he continued parsing through memories, he realized that Scott thought he and Dean had been married back when the same-gender marriage law had passed.

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean, but he was already half way to sleep, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and easy. Sam shook his head and turned back to Scott. He took a few minutes to clean up his trail so that Dana wouldn’t spot it and go looking. She had no need to know any of this unless Scott chose to tell her. He eased up and out, leaving Scott sleeping peacefully. He crawled in next to Dean and sighed. It had been a long day.

Sam closed his eyes and let himself sink into sleep.

It was only about two hours later that Dean’s dream leaked into Sam’s, and jerked him awake. Violent, random images, firing rapidly. Dean tossed, one hand gripped tight on his pillow as he growled. Sam rolled toward him, using his body weight to ground Dean, as he actively reached for the dream.

Dean was already drenched with sweat, his mind flooded with blood and anger and waves and waves of fear. Sam waded through it, searching for the trigger. Dean’s head was a mess, the dream in complete control. Sam got slammed by the panic and anguish and the crystal-clear image of Sam on the ground dying the day of the attack. He pushed it aside, walled it off, rapidly threw out a bunch of other walls to try to give Dean a chance to shake free.

Dean’s presence jumped up from under it all and latched onto Sam, nearly stifling, making it difficult to keep working. Sam wrapped himself around Dean and drew him up and away instead. They were both sweating and panting as Dean finally came loose from sleep.

Dean opened panic-filled eyes, fingers digging into Sam’s arms as he clung to him. “Sam?” he asked breathlessly when he finally realized he was awake.

“Yeah, I got you.”

Dean swallowed, licked his lips and visibly tried to calm his breathing. “Sorry. I don’t know why…” He shook his head, then smiled kind of sheepishly. “Kind of a role reversal, huh?”

Sam nodded and kissed his forehead. “You okay?”

Dean took a deep breath and let go of Sam, running a hand over his head. “I don’t really know.”

“Can you tell what triggered it?”

Dean was up, out of bed, pacing the space between the bed and the door. “I don’t know? Being here? Going to that bar? Lot of memories Sam.”

Sam nodded and got up himself. “And not really good ones.”

Dean shook his head and turned to look at him. “That’s just it. I don’t regret any of it. I got you out of it all. I wouldn’t change one goddamn thing.”

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t traumatic.”

Dean rolled his eyes. His frustration and a distinct impression of _Chick Flick_ rolled off him. Sam moved a little closer, reaching for him. “You’ve been having them a lot lately. Maybe it isn’t just this, being here. Maybe it’s something more.”

Dean’s nose crinkled and his mouth curled into a snarl. “Like what? Dude, I’ve seen shit that would have vets cowering in the corner. I’ve never had nightmares before.”

Sam nodded. “That’s kind of my point Dean. You’ve seen so much, been subjected to so much pain. Maybe it’s all finally catching up with you.”

“What like some post-traumatic thing?” Dean obviously didn’t like that idea. He was a Winchester, a tough guy, could handle anything.

“Maybe. I’m just saying…it’s something to consider.”

Dean turned his face up to Sam’s, kissed him, his tongue gliding into Sam’s mouth. Sam recognized it for what it was, distraction and deflection, but let him have it.

“I’m considering a shower and some more sleep before we hit the road.”

_We’ll talk about it when we’re home._

“Nothing to talk about, Sam. You coming?” Sam shook his head. “Suit yourself.”


	3. Finally Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean bring Scott home to Lawrence and he sets about reclaiming his life, if not his girl. Meanwhile, Sam asks Dean for something he really wants.

Dean didn’t actually sleep anymore that night. He showered and sat up watching Sam sleep. It was strange to see him so peaceful at night, especially a night after the things he’d had to do. Nightmares had always been a way of life in their bedroom. Dean had gotten good at soothing Sam past them. He’d even learned the stuff that would trigger them, and would be prepared when they came.

A year ago, hell, six months ago, just the thought of coming here would have brought them on. Instead, it was Dean who couldn’t bear the thought of going to sleep because of the nightmares.

By daybreak, Dean had loaded their stuff into the rented car and was impatiently waiting for Scott and Sam to wake up and get ready to go clean out Scott’s dorm room. He was restless, always was after the nightmare. It always started the same.

Always. With Sam. With Sam dying. With Sam’s body decaying in his arms.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and resisted the urge to shake Sam awake, to drag him into the bathroom to prove to himself Sam was there and real and alive.

He’d been ready to say goodbye. He’d given up. Consigned Sam to the ground. He’d let go.

And he couldn’t forgive himself.

He knew that was the cause of the nightmares, even if he would never admit it out loud. Especially not to Sam.

They hadn’t talked about it.

And Dean wasn’t about to initiate the conversation.

So instead, he went and got coffee. He didn’t know how Scott drank his, so he got it strong and black and grabbed a handful of creamers and sugars and figured the kid should be grateful they came and saved his ass, and drink his goddamn coffee.

By the time he got back, Sam was in the shower and Scott was sitting on the bed, looking a little dazed still, though it was obvious he’d been up and showered. His hair was still wet.

“You okay?” Dean asked as he put the coffee on the table.

Scott nodded, then inhaled and stood, crossing the room for the coffee. “Yeah, I had…weird dreams, and a lot of yesterday is kind of blurry, but I’m good.”

“Good. Didn’t know how you liked it.”

Scott opened the coffee and sniffed it. “No, this is good.” He left the creamers and the sugars and took the coffee back to the bed. “So…I guess I should be thanking you. Neither one of you had to come here.”

“You were in trouble, Scott. Sam could sense it.”

“Yeah, about that…” Scott sipped at his coffee, then looked up. “He’s different.”

“How so?” Dean sat back against the head board and cradled his coffee in his hands.

“I never realized he was…like Dana. I mean, I knew he had some gifts and some stuff going on with him, but not…he’s really powerful.” He looked up and held up a hand. “Not that I’m prying. I know not to. I promised Dana I’d never ask.”

Dean nodded. “He doesn’t flaunt it. Keeps it under wraps.”

“But I’m not wrong. He’s different. From…before.”

Dean squinted in his direction.

“I mean…I don’t know what I mean.” Scott shook his head and went back to sucking down his coffee. “I should probably get to the school, I’m going to have to do withdrawal paperwork and stuff.”

“Sam and I can start packing you up while you do that. I want to be on the road by noon. It’s a long drive.”

The bathroom door opened and Sam emerged, his skin pink from the hot water, all the way down to where it disappeared into his jeans. “There you are.”

“Coffee.” Dean pointed with his coffee cup and Sam grinned appreciatively.

“See…now I know that you love me.”

Scott groaned and Sam chuckled. “I saw that you got us loaded up already.”

“He wants to be on the road by noon.” Scott said.

“Well then, we should get moving.”

 

 

It was closer to one before they were leaving Palo Alto, but it had all gone smoothly. Scott was packed up and sitting in the back seat. Sam was quiet in the passenger seat, pulled back into his private place, thinking. Dean figured that was just as well. It kept Sam from trying to get him to talk about his dreams.

That left Dean to drive. And remember their last road trip. Just him and Sam, on the road back from the retreat where they’d dropped off Bellius. Sex every couple of hours until neither one of them could get it up again. That wasn’t happening with Scott in tow.

They stopped for dinner in Reno and pulled into Salt Lake City around midnight. Sam offered to take over driving. By two a.m., after long walks and bathroom breaks and a load up of road food at an all night truck stop, Dean let him, settling into the passenger’s seat to pretend to sleep.

They had breakfast in Denver and Dean took over driving again. They made Lawrence before dinner, and Dean helped haul Scott’s stuff into the spare bedroom.

“We should call Dana and tell her we’re home.” Dean said around a yawn, once he’d settled Remmy down, and cleaned up his little accident caused by the overwhelming joy of seeing Dean.

“You should get some sleep.” Sam countered, kissing his forehead. “I know you haven’t slept since the nightmare.”

“I’m fine.” Dean rolled his eyes, but headed for the stairs. Sam’s disapproval was too much though and he sighed. “Fine, you call her, I’ll go to bed.” He didn’t wait to see how Scott would react or if Sam would tell her not to come over. He just headed up the stairs with Remmy tucked under his arm and let himself into the bedroom.

Dean dropped Remmy on the bed, stripped out of his clothes and headed for the bathroom. He was tired, but he knew as soon as he slept, he’d dream. Unless…he pulled the bottle of pills down. At least with a sleeping pill in him, he’d be pulled deep enough he wouldn’t dream. Then he wouldn’t bother Sam, and Sam wouldn’t wake up concerned.

He didn’t look at himself as he swallowed two of them dry and headed for bed. He was a little surprised to find Sam there waiting for him.

“Is that going to help?”

Dean shrugged. “It can’t hurt. I’ll sleep.”

Sam nodded, but stayed a little closed off. “Okay. For now.”

Dean sighed and crawled into bed. “I just want to sleep. Without dreams. Okay?”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, I know the feeling. Dana’s not coming over. She’s got some…party or something. It was hard to tell with all the noise.”

“Party?” Dean yawned, pushing himself up to look at Sam. “Doesn’t she have classes in the morning?”

Sam chuckled. “She’s in college. Parties are part of college. Trust me on this.”

Dean yawned again, not completely convinced, but he nodded. “Lay with me?”

Sam slid down next to him, fingers feeling down Dean’s ribs to his hip. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I figured out why Scott didn’t react to Ambrose calling me a Winchester.”

Dean stifled the next yawn, but he could feel the pills spreading their fingers into him. “Why?”

“He thinks we got married. Remember, when the law was passed and every gay couple in Kansas was running out to get married?”

Dean frowned at Sam. Of course, Scott didn’t know that they couldn’t get married. That they were brothers. They’d never get past the blood test. “Married?”

Sam sighed. “I liked being a Winchester again.”

There was something in Sam’s tone, but Dean couldn’t keep his eyes open. He reached for Sam’s hand, pulling it close. As much as he wanted to stay awake, Dean couldn’t fight the combination of pills and exhaustion.

 

 

Dana grinned up at her date. “Good news, I don’t have to go running off after all.”

“Does that mean we’re on for the party?”

She nodded. “It does. I just have to go by my dorm room first. I want to change my shoes and grab a jacket.” She finished off her cappuccino and took his hand.

Riley Grant. Pre-Law. Excellent kisser. Not bad with his hands. A little conservative for her taste, but definitely worth further exploration. With any luck, her roommate was spending the evening fucking in whatever guy’s room she managed to land for the night.

And, okay, so that was a little judgmental, considering that Riley was the third guy Dana had made out with that week alone…but it wasn’t like she was bringing them home to the dorm room at all hours of the day and night.

Taylor had been wild, and they’d ended up in some frat guy’s bedroom at the Delta house party, finishing what they’d started on the couch. Charles, well…let’s just say she’d never be able to go into the stacks in the library and not remember…not that his performance was all that memorable, but it was something of a first for her.

She kicked off her shoes as she opened the door. “I’ll just be a minute.” She fished in the closet for a shoe with less heel, especially if there’d be dancing. Riley wasn’t really her type. But he looked mighty good in his suit and tie, and she liked the way he treated her like a lady. She wasn’t used to that.

Dana found the shoes she was looking for and turned around, to find Riley standing by her bed, staring at the picture on her night stand. “Who’s this?”

“That’s my dad.” Dana said plopping down on the bed to pull on the flats. “The reason I was going to have to run off. He’s been out of town. I was watching the dogs.”

Riley’s face was strained, unreadable. The air in the room had gotten noticeably colder. “And the guy next to him?”

“That’s Sam. His partner.”

There was a twitch in Riley’s cheek and he brushed his hands down his pants like there was something disgusting on them. “You never said your dad was gay.”

“Didn’t realize it was a big deal.” Dana said. She stood and looked at him, felt him out. He was disgusted. It oozed out of his pores. “Wait, you…it’s okay for you to make out with a girl ten minutes after meeting her, but you’re grossed out by two guys who love each other and have been together for eighteen years?”

“It’s…wrong.”

“Wrong?” She tried to evade the anger climbing into her stomach, but she couldn’t. “That’s a pretty archaic attitude.”

“Maybe I’m an old fashioned guy.” Riley countered.

“Yeah, so old fashioned you couldn’t wait to get in my pants.”

“Well I certainly don’t want in them now. For God’s sake, you probably have some disease.”

She snorted and went to the door. “Right, I might give you the gay cooties. I think maybe you better just go.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.”

She held the door and watched him stalk down the hall, half tempted to beam gay porn into his brain in retribution. “Damn bigots.”

Dana slammed her door and threw her shoes across the room. So much for the party. She just wasn’t in the mood. She could go see Sam and her Dad, but from Sam she got that they were both tired and probably just going to bed.

She threw herself down on her bed and pulled out her cell phone. It was almost eleven in California. Scott was probably asleep. She sighed and put the phone on her night stand, then rolled over and grabbed her science book off the floor.

It wasn’t like she needed to study. She got pretty much everything she needed from the teacher in class. Okay, so that wasn’t the most kosher use of her gifts…but she got straight A’s and she learned the stuff.

She shut the book seconds after opening it, then set it aside and got up looking for her shoes. Riley or no Riley, the night was young. She could find someone else to entertain her.

 

 

It wasn’t that he was actively avoiding her. Not exactly. He just wasn’t really looking for her either. Scott was having to jump through hoops to get in so late in the semester, and while KU was no Stanford, they weren’t making it easy on him either.

Most of the classes he wanted or needed were booked. And the ones he did get into required the professor’s permission in writing. The dorms were booked solid too, but Sam and Dean had generously said he could stay with them, if he didn’t want to go home to an empty house. His parents weren’t due back in the States until after Thanksgiving.

It took almost three days to get all the signatures, and it was just as he was leaving the English lit professor’s office that he ran into her. Literally.

Dana was giggling, her back to Scott. Scott had his nose in his agenda double checking that he had everything. He only had to see the track coach. He had an appointment in a half hour. Scott bumped her elbow and looked up.

Her eyes widened, then shot to her companion, a tallish guy who seemed a bit older, before coming back to Scott.

“Scott? Oh my god. What are you doing here?” She hugged him tight, but quickly released him and cleared her throat. “Um, Scott, this is Anthony Bodeck. He’s the TA in my English Lit class. Anthony, my…boyfriend, Scott Wu.”

Scott was taken back by the way she said it. Like she wasn’t sure what to call him. “Hi.” Scott said to Anthony before looking back at Dana. “I’m…transferring.”

She frowned at him. “What? Why? Is something wrong?”

He shrugged, looking at Anthony again and wishing she’d just read it in his face like she normally did. “Stanford was…everything Sam said it would be.”

Her eyes narrowed and he imagined he could feel her poking at his brain. It was probably just his imagination, but he was starting to be paranoid about it.

“Anthony…I need to talk to Scott.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him away. “What?” She asked when they were out of earshot.

His eyes were still on Anthony. “Were you flirting with him?”

“What? Scott. Focus. What happened?”

He shook his head and dragged his eyes back to her. “You were. A TA?”

She snapped her fingers in his face. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I can’t really talk right now. I have a meeting with the track coach. Then I have to get back to admissions before five so I can start classes on Monday.”

“Okay. Want me to give coach a good word?”

Somehow that annoyed him. “I am capable of making a good impression without the help of a Winchester, you know.”

She stepped back, clearly startled. “I was just trying to help.”

“Maybe I’ve had enough help from your family for one week.”

“Can we talk later?”

He took a deep breath. “I guess. I’m staying with your dads for a while.” He looked back at Anthony who was clearly still waiting for Dana. “I gotta go.”

 

 

“Dana’s here.” Sam said, looking up from the book in his lap.

Dean and Scott both looked at him, then the door. It opened a second later. Scott scooped up his books and headed for his room.

“Hey honey.” Dean kissed her forehead, but her eyes were on Scott’s retreating back. “How’s school?”

She was frowning, but Sam could tell it had nothing to do with school. “Fine.” She scowled as the bedroom door closed. “What the hell happened?” She focused the question on Sam.

“That’s his business. If he wants to tell you, he will.”

“It had to be bad. He said it was everything you said it was.”

Sam nodded. “Probably more. But seriously, talk to him.”

She gestured at the bedroom door wildly. “He won’t talk to me.”

Dean hugged her. “He’s had a rough couple of weeks, Dana. Give him some space.”

“Like I have a choice. We even have a class together and he won’t even acknowledge I’m there.”

Sam put his book aside and stood. “Maybe it should be private anyway. Why don’t you go knock on the door, see if maybe he’ll talk.”

She pouted, but nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Sam watched her go, then turned to Dean. “And that gives us a little alone time. I want to talk too.”

“Sam.” Dean made a face and turned away. He didn’t want to talk about the goddamn dreams again.

“No, Dean. Not that. I figure you’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”

“Okay, what then?”

Sam grabbed his hips, pulled him in close to kiss. “I want to talk to you about something I want.”

That perked Dean up. He was always willing to give Sam anything he wanted. “Okay, tell me.”

Sam took a deep breath. He’d been thinking about it since Palo Alto. Since he’d seen the way Scott looked at him and Dean. “I want us to be married.”

Dean looked at him for a moment like he was crazy. “Sam…I mean…you know I love you, but married?” He pulled away, scratching at his head. “There’s legal stuff, and the blood test. I mean…that’s the whole point of the blood test, right?” He shook his head. “I don’t need the government to tell me it’s okay to love you, Sam.”

“I know. I know. But Dean….” He bit his lip, reached out mentally, trying to find the right way to convey what he was feeling. “It doesn’t have to be a real wedding or anything…I don’t need symbols. I want….”

His eyes met Dean’s. _I want to be a Winchester again. For real. Forever._

For a heartbeat nothing in the room moved. Then Dean was in his arms, pulling until their mouths were crushed together and they were vibrating. Sam tried to tamp down his emotional response, but he was overwhelmed by Dean’s. All around them furniture levitated.

_Does that mean yes?_

Dean pulled back. His eyes sparkled with tears he was blinking back. He nodded. “Yes.” It wasn’t really spoken, though his mouth moved. The bedroom door opened and Sam concentrated on lowering the furniture without breaking anything.

“Everything okay?” Dana’s voice asked.

Dean had his face buried in Sam’s shirt, so Sam answered. “Fine honey. Want pizza?”

“With hot sauce?”

Sam smiled. “Of course.”


	4. Finally Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Dana talk...and Sam gets what he wants.

Dana closed the door and looked at Scott. He seemed distant.

“It’s okay, if you don’t want to tell me. I won’t pry. I just…I want to know you’re okay.”

“You can’t fix everything, Dana.” Scott said, looking up.

“I know. I do. I’m not trying to fix anything.”

“Good.”

“I just…I care about you.”

He rolled his eyes and put his text book on the bed. “Dana. I get that you might be feeling guilty about the other day. I mean, we both agreed to see other people, but that was assuming we wouldn’t have to see it, right?”

She blinked and crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t say I was feeling guilty.”

He looked her in the eye. “No? That’s what it looks like from here.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I agree.”

“So…I shouldn’t feel guilty.” She was fairly sure she was right. Problem was, she was fairly certain Scott was too. “I don’t feel guilty. I was worried about you. I’m still worried about you.”

Scott sighed wearily. “I’m fine Dana, I just have a whole lot of catch up work to do.”

He was keeping something from her. It bugged her. “I could help with English Lit. We could maybe have dinner and—“

He stood and came to her, taking her hands. “Stop. You’re pushing. I’m not ready.” He kissed her cheek. “Go have dinner with Sam and Dean. Go back to the dorm. I’ll see you around campus.”

That sounded an awful lot like rejection. Dana couldn’t comprehend that. “But, Scott, I love—“

He stopped her with a finger on her mouth. “Don’t. We decided it was time we see other people, that’s what college is for. Let’s just leave it there. For now.”

She frowned. Pouted. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to miss her. Want her back…because she was pretty sure she wanted him back.

“I really have a lot of work to do.” He left her there at the door and went back to the bed. Back to his books. He ignored her. After a few moments, Dana let herself back out. She moved toward the living room in a daze.

“Everything okay?”

She nodded, then blinked and looked up at Sam. “You know what? I’m going to take a rain check on that pizza.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Scott reminded me, I have some work to do.”

 

 

Sam was nervous. He had no reason to be. Not really. He waited on the court house steps for his father and Dana. Dean was inside, pacing up and down the hall way. They hadn’t told Dana or John why they wanted them there.

Their petition had been simple. Sam could have pulled some strings, the same way he had when he changed his name from Winchester to Winechrest in the first place, but he wanted this to be…real.

He did call in a favor with a local lawyer they’d helped out a few years back, and he maybe fudged a little blood work. But this was as close to the real thing as they would get.

Sam smoothed his tie and re-buttoned his suit jacket. Finally, he spotted John, and then Dana running to catch up to him. John had conceded to a sports jacket over his jeans and Dana was in a black dress. He’d only told them to be at the courthouse at 2 and to dress nice.

“You gonna tell us why we’re here?” John asked without preamble.

Sam felt Dana prying, but blocked her out. “It’s a surprise.”

“Told you Papa. He’s had me locked out since yesterday.”

John made a face, and Sam felt a flush of discomfort from him. He squinted, but John slapped at him. “Cut that out.”

“You okay?”

“Fine. I just wrenched my knee.” He pushed past Sam, and he could tell it was something more, but he let it go. They only had a few minutes.

“Come on then.” He led them inside to where Dean was still pacing. He was sweating lightly and his lips were red and swollen from biting them.

“We’re next.”

Sam nodded and took his hand. “Calm down.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Not really. It’s taking everything I’ve got not to rattle the windows.”

The doors opened. “Dean Winchester and Samuel Winechrest.”

“That’s us.” Dana’s curiosity doubled as they moved into the courtroom. Once the previous petitioners had left the room, they were called to stand before the judge.

“Well, it isn’t every day I get a petition like this one across my desk.” The judge was a woman, roughly John’s age, and so small she almost disappeared behind the giant desk. “According to your paperwork, the two of you have lived under the same roof for eighteen years?”

Sam nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

She looked at them, then at John and Dana. “And these are your witnesses?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yes, my father and my daughter Dana.”

She looked through the file, nodding. “Well then. I see no reason not to grant this petition.”

She looked at each of them. “Are you sure you don’t want something more formal?”

Dean nodded, squeezing Sam’s hand. “Yes, ma’am. We just want official, not formal.”

“Alright then, Dean Winchester, is it your desire today, before these witnesses and this court to take Sam Winechrest as your husband?”

 _Husband?_ Dana’s mental squeal rocked Sam almost physically.

Dean glanced at her, then up at Sam before looking square at the judge. “It is, your Honor.”

“And Sam Winechrest, is it your desire today, before these witnesses and this court to take Dean Winchester as your husband?”

Dana let loose another blow of psychic squealing. _Calm down._ Sam sent the words on a wave of comfort before looking to the judge. “Yes, ma’am. It is.”

She lifted her pen and scribbled her signature. She looked up at Sam, then at Dean. “Congratulations Mr. Winchester…and Mr. Winchester.”

Sam beamed and Dean grabbed at him, holding Sam’s lapels. Sam got the distinct impression that Dean’s knees were kind of wobbling on him. Then John was there, wrapping his huge arms around them and squeezing.

Dana’s shock and joy and laughter bounced around the room and she finally found a way to squeeze into the hug. The judge’s gavel sounded and the bailiff was trying to get them to move so they could bring in the next case…but Sam didn’t care. He was home.

Finally home.


End file.
